Harmless and Easily Domesticated
by Angie Astravic
Summary: Hagrid has been forbidden to teach any creature of higher classification than XX: harmless, may be domesticated. So nothing can possibly go wrong in his classes now - right? Augureys and Clabberts and Bowtruckles, oh my, not to mention Redneck Wizards.
1. The Augurey

  
  


— CHAPTER ONE — 

_The Augurey_

  
Harry's first Divination lesson of the year was a short one. Professor Trelawney was extremely put out to find he'd survived the summer. She shot glances of frustrated bafflement in his direction all through her lecture on animal omens and dismissed the class a quarter hour early. 

Because of this, Harry and Ron arrived at Hagrid's cabin for Care of Magical Creatures before anyone else. They found Hagrid sitting on an overturned cast-iron cauldron that was almost as big as the Dursleys' kitchen table. He looked to be in scarcely a better temper than Professor Trelawney. A bucket-sized pewter tankard, nearly empty, lay on the ground beside him. 

'What's up, Hagrid?' said Harry. 

'Aaah, I dunno abou' me classes this year, Harry,' Hagrid sighed. 'Ministry o' Magic's bin interferin' ... say I can on'y teach creatures that've been classified XX -- harmless an' eas'ly domesticated.' He gazed moodily into the tankard, then added, 'An' X, but that's jus' Flobberworms.' 

'And Horklumps, surely?' said Hermione, who had come strolling down the sloping lawn the join them. 

'There'll be no Horklumps comin' through the Hogwarts gates s'long as _I'm_ Keeper of Keys and Grounds!' Hagrid growled. 

Harry and Ron looked at each other, eyebrows raised. What sort of magical creature could be so unpleasant that even Hagrid wanted nothing to do with it? 

'An' here I was plannin' ter get yeh some Chimaera eggs ter hatch ...' said Hagrid in deep disgruntlement. 

Once the rest of the students had gathered round his hut, Hagrid went inside and came out again carrying a covered cage. 

'We're studyin' Augureys today,' he told them, and jerked the cover off the cage. 

Harry had never imagined he'd encounter a bird uglier than a phoenix on a Burning Day, but the Augurey was definitely that. Scrawny and vulture-like, its feathers a sickly greenish shade of black, the Augurey stood huddled on its perch gazing out at them mournfully. 

'Now the cry of the Augurey is so frightenin',' said Hagrid, for the first time showing a glimmer of his old enthusiasm, 'that wizards've died o' hearin' it.' 

'Died!' exclaimed Hermione. She whipped out her copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ and started flicking through the pages. If the Augurey's voice was anything like its appearance, however, Harry could well believe Hagrid's claim. 

'But there's on'y one thing that'll make an Augurey sing,' Hagrid went on, 'an' tha's rain.' 

He put the cage on top of the massive cauldron, drew his flowery pink umbrella from his overcoat and waved it at the Augurey. 

Nothing happened. Hagrid lowered the umbrella, looking crestfallen. 

'So -- so yeh've gotta wait fer some rain. You lot keep a watch on the Augurey. I'll be in me house ... doin' stuff.' 

He picked up the pewter tankard and stumped off into his cabin. 

As soon as Hagrid was out of earshot, Malfoy began to snicker. 'That brainless oaf thought he could convince an Augurey it was going to rain by waving an umbrella at it? What an utter pillock!' 

'He must've been trying to do a weather spell,' Hermione muttered to Harry and Ron (the three of them were fairly certain that Hagrid's pink umbrella held the pieces of his broken wand). 'That's illegal, and dangerous, and _very_ advanced ...' 

'Lucky it didn't work, then,' Ron muttered back. 

For several minutes they stood watching the Augurey, which was very boring. Hermione went back to reading _Fantastic Beasts_. 

'It says here that the feathers of the Augurey will repel ink,' she said brightly. 'Let's test it out, shall we?' 

Hermione reached through the bars of the cage and plucked a feather from the Augurey's tail. The Augurey gave her a tragic look but remained weirdly silent. Hermione took out an ink bottle, unscrewed the top and dipped the Augurey-feather quill into it. 

SPLAT! 

Ink shot from the bottle, hitting Hermione square in the face. She emitted an outraged squawk. The Slytherins fell about howling with laughter. 

'There's _mud_ in your eye, Granger,' gasped Malfoy, putting particular emphasis on the word 'mud'. 

Hermione rounded on him, jaw rigid with fury, and yanked out her wand. For a moment Harry thought she was going to curse Malfoy, but instead Hermione pointed the wand at her own head. 

'_Dimitto!_' she snarled. 

The ink flew off Hermione's face. Most of it landed on Malfoy, who gave a loud yell. Hagrid poked his head out the door of his hut to see what was the matter. 

'She threw ink on me!' complained Malfoy. 

'Don' worry,' Hagrid told him, 'it'll wash off.' 

He stepped out the cabin, lifted the water barrel and began striding towards Malfoy. Suddenly a great throbbing moan of agony filled the air. The low, terrible sound pierced at Harry's heart like a shard of ice. The whole class stood transfixed with horror. Hagrid stumbled and the contents of the barrel went flying. 

All of the students were liberally splattered. Malfoy, who had been standing directly in Hagrid's path, was drenched to the skin. When the last of the water had hit the earth, the Augurey mercifully went quiet, and the spell of its voice was broken. 

'Now look what you've done!' said Malfoy in a fury. 

'Got the ink off, didn' it?' said Hagrid shortly. He held out a hand to Malfoy. 'Take off yer robes, I'll wring 'em out fer yeh.' 

Malfoy backed away from him, arms folded protectively across his chest. Hagrid let his hand drop (Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls looked disappointed). 

Hagrid's eyes travelled over his dampened students. 'Er -- yeah ... Now that yeh've heard the Augurey, yeh migh' as well get back ter the castle an' dry off ...' 

Shivering slightly, the Care of Magical Creatures class started trudging up to the school. 

'A _proper_ teacher could have cast a Drying Charm,' Malfoy was saying in an angry hiss. 'If I catch cold, my _father_ --' 

'Nex' lesson's Bowtruckles!' Hagrid boomed across the grounds at them. 

'Oh, good,' said Ron. 'Perhaps next lesson Malfoy'll get his eyes gouged out.' 

Hermione looked askance at this. She extracted her copy of _Fantastic Beasts_ from her bag and turned to the entry on Bowtruckles. After reading over it, she said in a shocked tone, 'These things are considered _harmless_?' 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

The Augurey is one of the many terrifying monsters, I mean, interesting creatures, described in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. You should buy this book (and its companion volume, _Quidditch Through the Ages_). As Albus Dumbledore says on the back cover: 

_ Proceeds from the sale of this book will go to **Comic Relief**, which means that the pounds and Galleons you exchange for it will do magic beyond the powers of any wizard. If you feel that this is insufficient reason to part with your money, I can only hope that passing wizards feel more charitable if they ever see you being attacked by a Manticore. _

You will also learn: 

 The complete Ministry of Magic classification system (X through XXXXX and -- in the case of Pixies and Acromantulas -- beyond) 

 Why Hagrid so violently objects to bringing Horklumps into the Hogwarts grounds 

 The Augurey's association with phoenixes, fairies and Uric the Oddball 

 Why it would have been a bad idea for Hagrid to get the class Chimaera eggs 

 How to keep a Bowtruckle from gouging out one's eyes (always useful, that) 

* * *

**Related Stories:**

To find out why Professor Trelawney was so surprised to discover that Harry was still alive, read The Serpent of Lord Voldemort at http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=150716. 

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


	2. The Clabbert

  
  


— CHAPTER TWO — 

_The Clabbert_

  
Despite Hagrid's promise to bring a Bowtruckle to the next Care of Magical Creatures lesson, they continued to study Augureys another fortnight. Then one cool Monday morning in mid-September, eight enormous great horned owls sailed into the Great Hall carrying a large wooden crate suspended between them in a net of rope. 

BOOM! 

The owls dropped their burden at the staff table in front of Hagrid, sending his toast and kippers flying. When Hagrid leant down to inspect the crate, a delighted expression came over his face. Professor Vector, whose breakfast had also been squashed by the delivery, looked considerably less delighted. 

After Hagrid finished eating, Harry, Ron and Hermione followed him out of the Great Hall. As they drew closer, Harry could make out the words that were daubed on each side of the crate: _Joe-Bob's Auror Surplus Depot, Irrigation Ditch, Oklahoma_. 

'What's that you've got there, Hagrid?' said Harry. 

'Clabbert,' said Hagrid proudly. 'All the way from America. Didn' reckon it'd get here so soon.' He lowered his voice slightly. 'Good thing it did, though. Bin spendin' half me life trampin' through the Forest lately, an' I haven' seen a single Bowtruckle.' 

'I'm amazed it got here at all,' snorted Ron. 

The crate was addressed to: 

_ Rubious Hargid   
The Hut at the Edge of the Forgotten Forest   
Hog Wars   
England   
_

Hermione giggled. 'The Department of Witchcraft and Wizardry -- that's what the Americans call their Ministry of Magic -- must have sent the box through customs special delivery when they saw what was inside it.' 

Harry and Ron were halfway to Divination before it occurred to Harry to wonder: if Clabberts were supposed to be harmless, why had the American Ministry been so keen to get rid of that one? 

* 

Once the class had gathered for Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid led them round the back of his hut where a cage hung from a small, scrubby oak tree. In it was a creature that appeared to be part monkey and part frog, with horns and a massive white lump in the centre of its forehead. 

'Great lesson today,' said Hagrid happily. 'We're gonna find out how dangerous yeh are! This's a Clabbert ...' 

He explained that the pustule on the Clabbert's head would turn red and glow when danger approached -- how brightly indicated how much danger. 

'Erm -- do you mean dangerous as in magically powerful,' asked Hermione, 'or dangerous as in violent?' 

'I mean dangerous as in dangerous,' said Hagrid. 

He stood directly in front of Clabbert and glared at it. Its pustule glowed very brightly indeed. 

Hagrid had the students take it in turns to step up to the Clabbert, instructing them to 'think dangerous thoughts'. Generally speaking, boys were more dangerous than girls and Slytherins more dangerous than Gryffindors, with Malfoy being the most dangerous Slytherin boy of all. Hermione, however, proved to be nearly as dangerous as Malfoy (Millicent Bulstrode, the former most dangerous girl, cracked her knuckles ominously at this), and Neville Longbottom was nearly as dangerous as Hermione, which Harry would never have expected. 

Then it was Harry's turn. He faced the Clabbert, doing his best to mimic Hagrid's frightening scowl. There was a blinding flash of scarlet light; for a brief instant Harry thought someone had cast a Stunning Spell. Something stung at his cheeks. Harry blinked, trying to clear his vision, and realised that his glasses were speckled with drops of thick yellowish white liquid. He lifted his hands to take them off, but Hagrid beat him to it. 

'Keep still, Harry,' Hagrid ordered. 

He gripped Harry's head between his thumb and forefinger and began scraping his face with what felt like a garden trowel (but was in fact merely a Hagrid-sized penknife). 

'What happened?' said Harry, the moment Hagrid let him go. 

'Yeh popped it,' said Hagrid. 'Got ter collect the pus.' 

He transferred the pus he'd removed from Harry's face to a small jam jar and turned his attention to Harry's glasses. 

'Real useful fer potions, see. Yeh drink a potion made with Clabbert pus an' it won' work right away. It'll stay in yer blood, up ter seven years -- until you really need it. On'y it's gotta be popped naturally, an' most things dangerous enough ter pop a Clabbert's pustule'll kill any wizards nearby. Professor Snape'll be really happy with this,' he added in satisfaction, as he scraped the last bit of pus from Harry's glasses and handed them back to him. 

'Just what I've always wanted,' muttered Harry, rubbing at his face, 'to make Snape happy.' 

'I wanted to find out how dangerous _I_ am,' said Ron crossly -- he had been standing behind Harry in the queue. 'How long will it take for the pustule to grow back?' 

'Oh, aroun' seven years,' said Hagrid, offhand. 'Well, I reckon that's all fer today ... next lesson's Bowtruckles!' 

'Next time we do anything like this, I'm going ahead of you,' grumbled Ron as they walked up to the castle. 

'Fine,' said Harry, annoyed. 'D'you think I made the Clabbert pop its pustule on purpose? I wouldn't've got near the thing if I'd known that could happen!' 

He rubbed his face (which was starting to itch rather painfully) again. 

When they reached the Transfiguration classroom, Professor McGonagall took one look at Harry and sent him straight to the hospital wing. The Clabbert pus had raised angry welts on his skin; Madam Pomfrey applied a dab of paste that smelled suspiciously of Bubotubers to each one. This stopped the itching, but by dinnertime Harry's face was still noticeably red and blotched. He had to endure being called 'Spotty Potty' by Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins as he crossed the Great Hall to the Gryffindor table. 

'But you don't really look spotty, you know ...' said Hermione comfortingly, then spoiled it by tittering, '... more as though you did a really bad job shaving.' 

Then she had to explain what shaving was to Ron -- it seemed wizards used Beard Banishing Charms instead. 

At the staff table Harry saw Hagrid give the jar of pus to Snape, who did indeed look quite pleased. He looked even more pleased when Hagrid gestured towards Harry, apparently recounting the manner in which the pus had been procured. Snape turned to survey Harry's splodgy face with a nasty smirk. 

Harry stuck his fork vindictively into a jacket potato. 

'I miss the Skrewts,' he said. 

'Look on the bright side,' Ron advised him. 'You're more dangerous than Malfoy.' 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

The Clabbert is one of the many terrifying monsters, I mean, interesting creatures, described in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. You should buy this book (and its companion volume, _Quidditch Through the Ages_). As Albus Dumbledore says on the back cover: 

_ Proceeds from the sale of this book will go to **Comic Relief**, which means that the pounds and Galleons you exchange for it will do magic beyond the powers of any wizard. If you feel that this is insufficient reason to part with your money, I can only hope that passing wizards feel more charitable if they ever see you being attacked by a Manticore. _

You will also learn: 

 The decorative uses to which American wizards put Clabberts (what, you thought Martha Stewart was a Muggle?) 

 Why the American Ministry is nonetheless so eager to get them out of the country 

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


	3. The Redneck Wizard

  
  


— INTERLUDE — 

_The Redneck Wizard_

  
It was over a week before Harry's face returned to normal. The de-pustuled Clabbert took up residence in the oak behind Hagrid's hut. The class spent their next few lessons preparing a variety of slimy, squelchy and foul-smelling things for it to eat, following a special pus-building diet Hagrid had drawn up. Harry was never able to feed these unappetising dishes the Clabbert himself, as it retreated to the topmost branches of the tree whenever he approached. 

Hagrid was still having no luck finding a Bowtruckle, which in Harry's opinion was just as well. After his experience of the Clabbert, he thought it entirely possible someone actually would have their eyes gouged out. Nonetheless, when Harry, Ron and Hermione went to visit Hagrid Sunday after lunch, he was looking so depressed that when he asked them to help with his search, they couldn't bring themselves to refuse. 

'If I don' find a Bowtruckle today, it'll be Diricawls next lesson, an' they're really borin',' Hagrid told them gloomily. 

'Can we study Nifflers again instead?' said Ron. 

'You might want to try reading _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_, instead of just scribbling in Harry's copy,' said Hermione waspishly. 'Nifflers are rated XXX, Hagrid would get in trouble with the Ministry if he brought one to class.' 

Harry couldn't help thinking that it was most unfair (and typical of the Ministry of Magic) that Augureys and Clabberts were classified harmless whilst friendly, useful Nifflers were not. But as the Ministry was unlikely to change their rankings overnight on his say-so, off he set with Ron, Hermione and Hagrid to hunt for Bowtruckles. 

Going into the Forbidden Forest wasn't what you could call a lark at the best of times, and the damp, chilly October weather did nothing to make this endeavour a more pleasant one. All the Bowtruckles seemed to be sensibly staying in their nests. Three hours later, their search was brought to an ignominious conclusion when Ron blundered into an abandoned Acromantula web and nearly had heart failure. 

When they got back to Hagrid's cabin, Hagrid and Ron remained outside to try and get the webs off Ron's robes, whilst Harry and Hermione went in to make hot chocolate. Harry filled the kettle with water and carried it to the fire. The crate the Clabbert had arrived in stood by the hearth; apparently Hagrid was using the packing materials for kindling. As Harry waited for the kettle to boil, he spotted a piece of parchment that had fallen out. He picked it up and flicked his eyes over it. 

'Hermione?' said Harry. 'What's a redneck wizard?' 

'A _what_ wizard?' said Hermione, who was ferreting for cocoa in Hagrid's cupboard. 

'A redneck wizard,' said Harry. 'Red. Neck. There was a parchment about them in the Clabbert's crate.' 

'Oh, a redneck,' said Hermione. 'A redneck is someone who lives in the American South. It's a bit of an insult, really -- an offensive stereotype. Rather like --' she threw a quick look around to make sure Hagrid was nowhere nearby, '-- people in Britain with West Country accents.' 

'Ah,' said Harry. 

He checked the kettle. It still wasn't boiling. For lack of anything better to do, he began reading about redneck wizards. Most of it didn't make much sense: 

_You Might Be a Redneck Wizard If:_

_  You have ever heard the phrase, "Don't let the Muggles get y'all down."   
 Your robe is a camouflage color.   
 You have ever used your wand to open a bottle of Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill. [1]   
 At least one door of your enchanted Ford Anglia is primer colored. [2]   
 You have ever used magic in conjunction with fishing/bowling. [3]   
 Voldemort has ever said to you, "Shoot, son, come on over to the Dark side ... it'll be a hoot."   
_

Harry was surprised to see Voldemort's name written out; even in print most wizards referred to him as You-Know-Who. Perhaps in America they were more relaxed about saying the name. He went on reading: 

_  You have Bicorn horns on the front of your Firebolt.   
 You can easily describe the taste of a Puffskein.   
 You have ever had a flying carpet up on blocks in your yard.   
 You ever lost an eye during a wizard duel because you had to spit.   
 The worst part of going into the Forbidden Forest is the dadgum skeeters.   
 You think Hagrid would look better in a flannel cause he looks like a big sissy in that moleskin waistcoat.   
 In your opinion, that Snape feller just "ain't right."   
_

Harry's mouth fell open. 'Hermione!' he said loudly. 'This parchment from America has stuff about Hagrid and Snape on it! Come have a look!' 

'Hang on, I'm washing the milk jug,' said Hermione. 

Harry stared back down at the parchment: 

_  Trolls are offended by your body odor.   
 You have ever used magic to get yourself another beer so you didn't have to wait for a commercial.   
 You have ever used sparks from your wand to get the barbecue grill to light.   
 Your flying carpet is woven in the pattern of a confederate flag.   
 You have the doors of your enchanted Ford Anglia welded shut and you have to get in through the window.   
 You ever fantasized about Cho Chang wearing Daisy Duke shorts. [4]   
_

Harry felt himself blush to the roots of his hair. Unfortunately Hermione chose exactly that moment to walk over and pluck the parchment out of his hand. Face burning, he tried frantically to think of a way to distract her before she reached the part about Cho, but once Hermione started reading, there was very little that could make her stop. 

'Oh!' squeaked Hermione. Her cheeks went bright crimson. 'I -- I know why this parchment mentions Hagrid and Snape and -- and other people,' she said rather rapidly. 'It's got a Personalisation Charm on it. See -- when I'm holding it, it says "redneck witch" instead of "redneck wizard".' 

Harry noticed she kept the item that described fantasising about -- well, presumably not Cho -- carefully covered with her thumb. 

'Let's have it back, then,' he said, tugging the parchment away from her. 

_'You ever fantasized about Cho Chang'_ now read _'You ever fantasized about Ron Weasley'_. As Hermione's fingers left the parchment, the letters rearranged themselves. For a horrible instant, the words became _'You ever fantasized about that Snape feller'_, then mercifully returned to Cho. 

Harry finished reading the list: 

_  Although you had to destroy his diary, you kinda thought that Tom Riddle had a pretty good handle on how to treat his women.   
 You have ever accidentally referred to the Slytherins as "them damn Yankees."   
 You have a cousin who bears a strong resemblance to Fluffy.   
 You suggested that they outfit the Gryffindor common room with red wood deck. [5]   
 You were the only person drinking Jack Daniels on the rocks in the Leaky Cauldron scene. [6]   
 Voldemort has ever told you, "I am your grandfather, Harry -- both of them!"   
_

It took Harry several seconds to work that last one out. 

'Eurgh!' 

He crumpled up the parchment and tossed it into fire. 

  
  


— CHAPTER THREE — 

_The Diricawl_

  
Next Care of Magical Creatures lesson, Hagrid led the class to the small vegetable patch behind his house. A peculiar-looking bird was pecking contentedly amongst the cauliflowers and leeks. It resembled a fat grey chicken, with a long curving neck and a great golden hook of a beak. 

'Now, this's a Diricawl,' said Hagrid. 'What yeh need ter remember abou' Diricawls is they'll disappear at the firs' sign o' danger --' 

Harry stepped forward to take a closer look. With a soft, feathery _pop_, the Diricawl vanished. 

'Ah, yeah, like that,' said Hagrid. He gazed at the empty space where the Diricawl had been, then said brightly, 'Nex' lesson is Bowtruckles!' 

'Bet it's not,' muttered Ron. 

* * *

**Footnotes:**

[1] Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill: A strawberry-flavoured "malt beverage" (i.e. beer) sold in bottles as cheap wine. 

[2] primer: The stuff that's put on a car before painting it, to make the paint stick to the metal. 

[3] _You have ever used magic in conjunction with fishing/bowling._

As his Famous Wizard card says he "enjoys ... tenpin bowling", Dumbledore probably actually meets this qualification. You might be a redneck wizard if you have a brother who was prosecuted for practising inappropriate charms on a goat ... 

[4] Daisy Duke shorts: Very short denim cut-offs. 

[5] red wood deck: _Sodomy non sapiens_, as Terry Pratchett would put it (i.e. buggered if I know). Some kind of special flooring, I assume. 

[6] Jack Daniels: An old and very good brand of Tennessee sipping whiskey. 

* * *

**Disclaimer:**

"You Might Be a Redneck Wizard" is a shameless rip-off of "You Might Be a Redneck Jedi", and represents my own work only insofar as choosing the appropriate Harry Potter terms to replace the Star Wars ones. The Redneck Jedi list can be found on web pages too numerous to cite (a Google search on "Redneck Jedi" yields about 13,800 hits), for the most without attribution. However, the RHF Joke Archives credits the original concept to one Steve D Maurer, and they're usually pretty good about getting their sources right. 

All characters and concepts from the Star Wars films copyright George Lucas; all characters and concepts from the "You Might Be a Redneck" comedy sketch copyright Jeff Foxworthy; all characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

The Diricawl is one of the many terrifying monsters, I mean, interesting creatures, described in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. You should buy this book (and its companion volume, _Quidditch Through the Ages_). As Albus Dumbledore says on the back cover: 

_ Proceeds from the sale of this book will go to **Comic Relief**, which means that the pounds and Galleons you exchange for it will do magic beyond the powers of any wizard. If you feel that this is insufficient reason to part with your money, I can only hope that passing wizards feel more charitable if they ever see you being attacked by a Manticore. _

You will also learn: 

 What Puffskeins and Acromantulas are 

 The name by which Muggles formerly knew the Diricawl 


	4. The Chizpurfles

  
  


**— chapter four —**

**THE CHIZPURFLES**

  
Harry had just added a pinch of shredded starchwort to his cauldron and was reaching for a lungfish liver, when -- 

PLOP! 

His first thought was that Malfoy had thrown a Shrivelfig at him. His second thought was that that was the largest, roundest, plumpest Shrivelfig he'd ever seen in his life. His third thought was that Shrivelfigs didn't have legs. 

'Blimey,' said Ron, peering into Harry's cauldron, 'what's that?' 

Hermione leant over to have a look and jumped back with a squeak of horror. 

'It's a Chizpurfle!' 

'What, those things Hagrid showed us last lesson?' said Ron. 'No way, it's _massive_ ...' 

As Ron had predicted, their most recent Care of Magical Creatures class had not been Bowtruckles. Instead Hagrid brought a jar of Chizpurfles -- small, crab-shaped insects that fed on a variety of magical substances, most notably the blood of other magical creatures. But those Chizpurfles had been tiny, barely a twentieth of an inch high. The thing in Harry's cauldron was nearly as big as a Snitch. 

'And what is it, pray tell, that makes Mr Potter's work so much more fascinating than your own?' said a soft, dangerous voice behind them. Whilst Harry, Ron and Hermione were engrossed in the Chizpurfle, Professor Snape had stalked over to their table. 

'_That_,' said Harry, pointing into the cauldron. 

When Snape beheld the Chizpurfle, his face took on an expression of loathing of the sort that he normally bestowed only on Harry. 

'Stand back!' he snapped. 

Once the three of them were well clear, Snape whipped out his wand and muttered a spell. Harry's potion erupted and the Chizpurfle shot skywards, ricocheting off the ceiling to land on the table where Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass were working. The pair of them retreated shrieking to the opposite side of the room, knocking over a jar of peccary bristles in their haste to get away. 

Snape swished about and took aim again, but the Chizpurfle leapt off the table just ahead of his hex. Things continued in this manner for some time, Snape jabbing with his wand and hissing curses as the Chizpurfle bounced from wall to wall. Students scattered in its wake; cauldrons were overturned and a number of Snape's jars of horrible things were smashed. The Potions master himself grew steadily more enraged. 

Finally Snape got hold of himself. He stood quite still, panting with fury, and waited for the Chizpurfle to settle down. At last it came to rest on a shelf behind his desk. Snape crept slowly forward, wand at the ready. At the edge of the desk he drew to halt and in a voice scarcely louder than a whisper said, '_Avada Kedavra_.' 

In a flash of emerald light the Chizpurfle exploded, spraying the front of the room in general and Snape in particular with foul-smelling liquid. Not even pausing to clean himself up, Snape stormed over to the store-cupboard and took out what appeared to be a crock of honey. He set it on his desk, pulled off the lid, tapped it with his wand and said, '_Accio Chizpurfles_.' 

Black specks of varying sizes converged on the crock from all around the room. A noticeable quantity of them emerged from Snape's slime-drenched robes and hair, but after the way he'd dealt with the first Chizpurfle not even Ron was brave enough to snigger at him. 

* 

That night in the Great Hall, Harry, Ron and Hermione saw Snape stop to have a word with Hagrid at the staff table. Snape looked wrathful; Hagrid was making placating gestures with his enormous hands. They could easily guess what that was about. 

'You really can't blame Professor Snape for being upset,' said Hermione ('Just watch me,' muttered Ron). 'Chizpurfle infestations can destroy a Potions laboratory if they aren't brought under control quickly enough. The one in your cauldron must have been _scoffing_ ingredients to get the size it did.' 

After the meal, the three of them waited for Hagrid in the Entrance Hall to find out exactly how much trouble he was in. 

'Nah, Professor Snape wasn' too happy about the Chizpurfles,' said Hagrid, 'but I told him I knew a good private exterminator, an' I'd be sendin' him an owl firs' thing tomorrow mornin' ...' 

Next evening at dinner, an extra chair had been added to the end of the staff table. Sitting in it was none other than Professor Lupin. A tide of shocked whispers swept over the Great Hall, because of course everyone third year and above knew that he was a werewolf. 

'May I introduce Mr Remus Lupin, who has come to Hogwarts to deal with our recent pest control problem,' said Dumbledore brightly. 'He'll be working in various areas of the school over the next fortnight -- please give him every cooperation.' 

In the days that followed, older students delighted in scaring younger ones with lurid and entirely made-up stories about Lupin's tenure as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. 

'Obvious, really, why the Ministry never caught Sirius Black,' Harry overheard Fred and George telling a group of petrified second-years. 'That night he was loose in the grounds, Professor Lupin ate him right up!' 

Harry wished they wouldn't: Lupin was visibly hurt by the smaller students' fearfulness in his presence. Saturday morning, Harry, Ron and Hermione decided to pay him a visit to cheer him up. The Marauder's Map showed Lupin patrolling near the Slytherin common room, so they headed down the seven flights of stairs from Gryffindor Tower. As they were crossing the Entrance Hall, a tiny figure came pelting up from the dungeons sobbing hysterically and ran headlong into Hermione. 

'It's Pagford, isn't it?' she said, helping the little first-year up from the floor. 'What's the matter?' 

'V-Vincent!' wailed Pagford. 'The w-werewolf is eating him!' 

Harry seized Pagford roughly by the collar, nearly lifting him off his feet. 

'Professor Lupin wouldn't eat a student!' he snarled. 

Pagford looked up, saw who it was and gave a moan of fright. Harry abruptly realised that he was bullying a boy who was scarcely half his size. 

'Er -- sorry,' he said, releasing his grip on Pagford and tugging the minute Slytherin's robes straight. 

'Harry's right, Jill,' said Hermione sternly (Harry abruptly realised he'd been bullying a _girl_ who was scarcely half his size). 'Professor Lupin wouldn't eat a student. Now tell me what's really going on down there.' 

'He is, he is!' shouted Pagford. 

She bolted between Ron and Harry and went tearing up marble staircase. Hermione turned as if to go after her, then stopped. 

'We'd better see if Professor Lupin's OK,' she said worriedly. 

'Yeah,' said Ron. 'Wouldn't put it past Crabbe to try and eat _him_.' 

Halfway down the dungeon corridor they met up with Crabbe and Lupin, and for a mad instant Harry thought Ron had been right. Crabbe's long, gorilla arms were wrapped tightly around Lupin's shoulders; his face was buried in Lupin's neck. Then Harry saw that Crabbe was crying. Huge, glistening tears streamed down his cheeks to soak Lupin's robes. 

'Walk this way, there's a good lad ...' Lupin was saying as he attempted to usher the hulking fifth-year towards the staircase, without much success -- Crabbe was taller than he was and considerably heavier. 

'Oi!' said Ron furiously. 'Leave him alone! 

He sprinted over and dragged Crabbe off Lupin. Crabbe simply battened on to Ron and carried on howling. 

'Gerroff me!' choked Ron. 

He slammed Crabbe into the stone wall and punched him hard in the stomach. 

'Ron, don't hurt him, he's not in his right mind!' said Lupin (unnecessarily in Harry's opinion, as Crabbe barely seemed to notice he'd been hit). 'We need to get him to Madam Pomfrey. Hermione, if you could work a Mobilicorpus Charm --' 

'_What is the meaning of this?_' 

At the foot of the stairs stood Professor Snape. From behind his billowing cloak, little Pagford was peeking out. 

'Nothing serious, Severus,' said Lupin calmly. 'We're bringing Mr Crabbe to the hospital wing, he's been at my Glumbumble treacle.' 

'You left it lying about for him to find?' spat Snape, his face twisted with hatred. 'You haven't learnt a thing, have you? Endangering students with your carelessness ... why Dumbledore let you back into this school, I'll never know ...' 

'I shall certainly keep a sharper eye out in future,' said Lupin in a steady tone. 'But may I suggest that as Potions master you take stronger measures to drum into your students the dangers of tasting an unknown magical substance?' 

Snape shot Lupin a murderous look and took the sobbing Crabbe by the arm. 

'Come, Vincent,' he said, and swept off -- or rather, tried to sweep off. Snape had a somewhat easier job of bundling Crabbe along than Lupin as he was taller, but he was still fighting very much outside of his weight. The best he could manage was a fast stagger. Pagford trotted ahead of him, casting nervous glances back at Lupin and Harry. 

When Snape was out of sight, Lupin sighed deeply, pulled a stone crock from his bag, opened it and said '_Accio Chizpurfles._' 

'I expect I should have been more careful,' he said heavily, as one or two small black dots sailed towards the crock. 'But I'd only stepped away for a moment and I never imagined anyone might actually want to eat Glumbumble treacle ...' 

Harry peered into the crock. The Glumbumble treacle bore a quite strong resemblance to troll snot: thick, cloudy, grey and speckled with the corpses of dead Chizpurfles. 

'Definitely not,' said Harry. 'Snape was just being horrible.' 

'Mind, I thought you were a bit hard on him,' Ron told Lupin. 

Harry and Hermione gaped, and even Lupin looked mildly astonished. Ron standing up for Snape was rather like Voldemort applying to become an Auror. 

Ron grinned at their expressions. 'Not Snape's fault those two idiots go around eating everything they see -- he's a Potions master, not a troll trainer!' 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

To learn more about Lupin's job as a private exterminator, read "The Butterflies". 

The Chizpurfle is one of the many terrifying monsters, I mean, interesting creatures, described in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. You should buy this book (and its companion volume, _Quidditch Through the Ages_). As Albus Dumbledore says on the back cover: 

_ Proceeds from the sale of this book will go to **Comic Relief**, which means that the pounds and Galleons you exchange for it will do magic beyond the powers of any wizard. If you feel that this is insufficient reason to part with your money, I can only hope that passing wizards feel more charitable if they ever see you being attacked by a Manticore. _

You will also learn: 

 What Glumbumbles are 

 Why the treacle they make is so dangerous 

 Why Ron nonetheless finds them amusing 

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


	5. The Bowtruckle

  
  


**— chapter five —**

**THE BOWTRUCKLE**

  
Although there were no more catastrophes on the scale of the Chizpurfle infestation, Hagrid's next few Care of Magical Creatures classes definitely had their share of action. 

The gnome escaped, leaving Hagrid in a state of near hysteria over the havoc that would be wreaked upon Hogwarts' beautifully maintained lawns and gardens. When Crookshanks trotted into the Entrance Hall that evening carrying it by the scruff of its neck, Hagrid was so relieved that he swept up the great ginger cat and kissed him. 

After that was a series of lessons on Jobberknolls: small, black-speckled blue birds that remained silent their entire lives, only to repeat, backwards, every sound they'd ever heard the instant before they died. Hagrid, who plainly found Jobberknolls quite boring, hung a cage on a hook outside his cabin and instructed the students to keep an eye out for signs of the Jobberknoll's impending death. 

'Can't you just kill it?' Malfoy had asked peevishly. 

'Jobberknolls're a protected species,' growled Hagrid. 'Yeh'll jus' have ter be patient, Malfoy.' 

This turned out to be a vast understatement, as Hermione discovered whilst consulting _Magical Avifauna of Britain and Ireland_ to find out the expected lifespan of a Jobberknoll. 

'_The degree to which speckling of the feathers has progressed is indicative of both the age of the Jobberknoll and the efficacy of those feathers as a potions ingredient ... Jobberknolls can live upwards of seventy years ..._' She looked up from the book in dismay. 'Hagrid's Jobberknoll is practically pure blue! Our great-grandchildren may be at Hogwarts to hear it sing, but we certainly won't!' 

Next they learnt about Puffskeins, custard-coloured balls of fur with fantastically long tongues, which they used to search for food. Hagrid attempted to demonstrate this by setting a plate of dead spiders on his front doorstep and taking the Puffskein into the back garden. Seconds later, what looked like a slimy pink ribbon came snaking round the hut. It stopped well short of the spiders, however, making a sudden sharp turning in Draco Malfoy's direction. 

Malfoy had loudly announced at the beginning of the lesson that no one over the mental age of five retained any interest in Puffskeins, and was now deep in conversation with Pansy Parkinson. The rest of the class watched, fascinated, as the Puffskein's tongue circled behind Malfoy's back, reached stealthily over his shoulder and flicked deftly in and out of his nose, causing Pansy to screech and Malfoy himself to jump nearly a foot in the air. 

Hagrid cheered up noticeably when it came time to study Grindylows, although he couldn't teach them much that Professor Lupin hadn't already covered two years ago in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry did rather wonder what Fleur Delacour would think of the Ministry's decision to classify Grindylows as harmless. 

After the Christmas holidays, a Porlock flew in from Beauxbatons on one of Madam Maxime's elephant-sized winged horses, which according to Newt Scamander were called Abraxans. The winged horse was quite impressive but Harry never got a very good look at the Porlock, as it kept dodging behind the horse's legs to stay out of view. 

When Hagrid told them the next lesson would be Bowtruckles, nobody really believed him; he'd been saying this at the end of each class since the start of the year. Amazingly enough, however, when they turned up the following Monday, Hagrid told them to leave their bags beside his cabin and go with him into the Forbidden Forest. He had apparently, at last, managed to track down a Bowtruckle. 

Hermione insisted on bringing along a bag of Honeydukes sweets, which she refused to share with Harry and Ron, to Ron's great annoyance. 

'These are for the Bowtruckle, you wouldn't like them,' she snapped, slapping his hand away. 

Shouldering a wickedly sharp axe nearly as long as Harry's Firebolt, Hagrid led them down a winding path for a quarter of an hour, then plunged off suddenly into the undergrowth. After fifty feet of bramble and bracken, they arrived at the foot of an ancient, gnarled sycamore. 

'You lot stand clear,' Hagrid ordered. 

He ran a thumb along the blade of the axe to test its keenness, drew it back and swung. With a shriek of fury, what appeared to be a bundle of twigs detached itself from the tree and launched itself at Hagrid's head, thorny talons outstretched. Hagrid caught the Bowtruckle in his free hand as though it was a long, wooden Snitch. Just before the axe hit the tree, it hissed a very rude word in Parseltongue and turned into a giant rubber snake. 

This served only to further enrage the Bowtruckle. It chittered angrily and tried to swipe at Hagrid with its sharp fingers, but couldn't reach over his enormous fist. 

'Bowtruckles're normally quite peaceable,' said Hagrid, 'but they get very upset if their tree's threatened.' 

As if to confirm Hagrid's words, the Bowtruckle sank its teeth viciously into his thumb, which seemed mainly to hurt Hagrid's feelings. 

'Ron, what have you done with my Honeydukes bag?' said Hermione. 

'I haven't touched your Honeydukes bag!' said Ron. 

'But I put it down right here ... where could it have got to?' 

Hermione had just begun rooting amongst the ferns when a thunderous bellow rent the silence of the Forest. They whipped round to see Goyle dancing about, waving a hand that was covered with small, moving brown specks. Hermione's Honeydukes bag lay open at his feet. 

The Bowtruckle took advantage of Hagrid's distraction to wriggle free of his grasp. With an almighty bound it leapt onto Goyle, who let out another howl and went bolting off into the depths of the Forest. 

'I'll go an' fetch him,' said Hagrid. 'The rest o' yeh, get back ter the school ...' 

He vanished into the trees after Goyle. 

'Those Cockroach Clusters must've been _really fresh_,' said Ron, as they made their way along the path out of the Forest. 

'They weren't Cockroach Clusters,' said Hermione. 'Honestly, I suppose you haven't read _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ yet, either ...' 

At Hagrid's hut, the class stood by anxiously awaiting his return. The Slytherins were clustered around Malfoy, who was whispering furiously and casting angry glances towards the Forbidden Forest. 

'If anything happens to Goyle, Hagrid could be in a lot of trouble,' said Hermione worriedly. 

'Why?' said Harry. 'He's supposed to be teaching harmless creatures -- Bowtruckles are classified XX.' 

'Unless it was a misprint,' said Hermione, biting her lip. 

Half an hour later, Hagrid strode out of the trees in his shirtsleeves, despite it being the middle of an unusually cold January. Goyle was nowhere to be seen. 

'Er ...' said Ron. 'How come Hagrid's carrying a handbag?' 

As Hagrid drew closer, it became clear that the 'handbag' was in fact his moleskin overcoat, tied to the axe by its sleeves and tails to form a sort of litter, in which rode Gregory Goyle. Goyle's eyes were open but he appeared to be in deep shock, staring off into the distance at nothing in particular. One of the sleeves of his robes had been ripped off and there was a nasty bruise on his cheek. 

'What happened to him?' said Hermione in a hushed voice. 

'Ran inter a tree,' said Hagrid shortly ('A likely story!' spat Draco Malfoy). 

Hagrid untied his overcoat and propped Goyle against the wall of the cabin. He went inside and came out again with a large pewter tankard. 

'Here, drink this,' he said to Goyle. 'Yeh'll be OK ...' 

The stuff in the tankard made Goyle cough and splutter, but seemed to bring him back from wherever it was that he'd been. As soon as Goyle was on his feet, Malfoy bustled him off to the castle 'where a proper mediwitch can have a look at him'. 

Harry, Ron and Hermione hung back until all the other students had gone. 

'Hagrid,' said Hermione seriously, 'Goyle didn't really run into a tree, did he?' 

'Ah -- no,' said Hagrid. 'He ran inter a spot o' bother with a troll. Don' worry, I got there in time --' 

'Goyle was attacked by a _troll_?' squeaked Hermione. 'Hagrid, we've got to go to Dumbledore at once and explain what happened. When Malfoy finds out he'll be owling his father, trolls are XXXX --' 

'Oh, I don' reckon Goyle'll be tellin' him,' said Hagrid. 

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged disbelieving looks. They couldn't imagine Goyle keeping a secret from Malfoy, especially one that might get Hagrid sacked. 

'Yeh see,' said Hagrid, lowering his voice, 'it was a lady troll ... an' she didn' exactly want ter fight ...' 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

The Bowtruckle is one of the many terrifying monsters, I mean, interesting creatures, described in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. You should buy this book (and its companion volume, _Quidditch Through the Ages_). As Albus Dumbledore says on the back cover: 

_ Proceeds from the sale of this book will go to **Comic Relief**, which means that the pounds and Galleons you exchange for it will do magic beyond the powers of any wizard. If you feel that this is insufficient reason to part with your money, I can only hope that passing wizards feel more charitable if they ever see you being attacked by a Manticore. _

You will also learn: 

 The type of potions Jobberknoll feathers are used in 

 What the Puffskein was searching for up Malfoy's nose 

 The names of several other breeds of winged horse 

 What Hermione had in the Honeydukes bag 

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


	6. The Doxys

**Alternate Universe Warning:** The first bit of serious _Order of the Phoenix_ AU turns up in this chapter -- Umbridge appears, but not as the Dark Arts teacher (see Author's Note for details). **Spelling Note:** The plural of Doxy is given as Doxies in _Fantastic Beasts_, doxies in the US OotP, and Doxys in the UK OotP. As most recent UK canon, I've used the latter. 

* * *

  
  


**— chapter six —**

**THE DOXYS**

  
After Bowtruckles, they learnt about ghouls. Hagrid got Mrs Weasley to bring the one from The Burrow to show the students, but this proved to be rather a disappointment. The ghoul was highly distressed at being removed from its attic and clung to Mrs Weasley's robes, sobbing, the whole time. When the lesson was over, she decided it would be best to take the creature home at once. 

'Don' know what we'll do after we finish ghouls, I'm runnin' out o' harmless things ter teach,' said Hagrid to Harry, Ron and Hermione, as Mrs Weasley and the ghoul set off for Hogsmeade. 'Try ter get some imps or fairies, I s'pose -- Mooncalves an' Ramoras're too rare.' 

In the event, that was to be the least of Hagrid's worries a fortnight on when their study of ghouls was complete. Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived for Care of Magical Creatures to find tubs of Flobberworms and bowls of lettuce set out. Hagrid sat on his cauldron holding a massive pewter tankard and looking exceptionally morose. Malfoy was whispering gleefully to Crabbe and Goyle; somehow Harry didn't think the opportunity to learn more about Flobberworms was the cause of his excitement. 

The three of them exchanged anxious glances and headed over to have a word with Hagrid. 

'Goyle told Malfoy about the troll,' guessed Harry. 

Hagrid reached wordlessly into his overcoat and handed him a crumpled letter. 

_ Dear Mr Hagrid, _

An official complaint has been made to the Ministry of Magic that, in contravention of Educational Decree Number Twenty-two, you have exposed Hogwarts students to magical creatures of classification XXX or higher, to whit, Glumbumbles, Winged Horses and Bowtruckles. 

An inter-departmental sub-committee has been appointed to investigate this matter. Their enquiry will take place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on March 4th. 

Yours sincerely,   
Robin Barnswallow   
Beast Division   
Ministry of Magic 

'Doesn't say anything about trolls,' Ron noted. 

'This is rubbish, you never taught Glumbumbles,' said Hermione, 'and Bowtruckles _are_ XX, I went to the library and checked. And _Winged Horses_?' 

'Diff'rent breeds have diff'rent ratings,' said Hagrid, 'but Dumbledore reckons I'll be OK with Madam Maxime's. He don' think I got much ter worry about. There'll have ter be a hearin', though -- they'll be comin' down ter observe one of me lessons. Lucius Malfoy's behind it, o' course ... leas' this time there's nothin' fer him ter have executed ... can' chop the head off a Flobberworm ...' 

But as Hagrid took a long swig from the tankard, it was plain that this fact was of little consolation to him. 

* 

On the day of the hearing, Harry, Ron and Hermione made a point of showing up at Hagrid's cabin as early as possible. Hagrid let them inside, looking considerably less gloomy than they had expected him to be. 

'Shipment o' fairies delivered this mornin',' he said happily. 'Not very impressive, I know, but anythin's better than Flobberworms, eh? An' these ones're sorta cute ...' 

He whipped off the cover of the cage to reveal quite the ugliest fairies Harry had ever seen in his life. Thick black hair grew all over their bodies. Their shiny black wings rustled angrily as they bared double rows of pointy fangs and they appeared to have two pairs of arms and legs. 

'Hagrid, those aren't fairies,' said Hermione in an appalled tone. 'They're Doxys, and they're classified XXX!' 

Before Hagrid could say anything, there was a hammering on the door. 

'Open up!' said a sharp voice. 'Sub-committee for the Enforcement of Educational Decree Number Twenty-two!' 

'Don't open the door!' shrieked Hermione at the top of her lungs. 'The fairies are loose, they'll escape!' 

She hissed a quick Locking Charm as, in express defiance of her orders, the doorknob began to turn. 

'Go outside and get them away from the house,' she said tensely to Hagrid. 'Tell them we're catching the fairies, take them to see the Flobberworms -- pick them up by the backs of their robes and carry them if you have to!' 

Hermione released the Locking Charm just long enough for Hagrid to squeeze outside. Seconds later, a great, ululating scream pierced the air. From beyond the door came a scuffling noise, several flashes of fiery red light and Hagrid's voice saying, 'Hey, none o' that!' 

'Mr Dawlish, put your wand away!' a witch's voice screeched. 'Dolores, get a hold of yourself!' 

The commotion gradually subsided and they heard footsteps moving away from the cabin. 

'Right,' said Hermione, breathing heavily as she turned back to the Doxys. 'Right ...' 

She stared at the cage for a moment, then drew her wand. 

'_Depilo!_' 

The Doxys' thick black hair fell out. The skin beneath was hideously wrinkled and fish-belly white. 

'_Melano!_' 

Though still hideously wrinkled, the Doxys now had a nice, healthy tan. 

'_Iridio!_' 

The Doxys' beetle-black wings took on a shimmering, rainbow hue. 

'_Lumos!_' 

The Doxys shone with a radiant golden light. 

'Won't they notice the extra arms and legs?' said Ron. 'And the teeth -- those'll be pretty hard to miss.' 

Far from being grateful for their makeover, the Doxys were spitting with rage, stamping their feet and shaking their tiny fists (of which they had twice the normal complement). 

'Not if they don't get a close look at them,' said Hermione grimly. 

She seized the cage of tarted-up Doxys, strode to the window, pulled back the curtain and peered out. The Sub-committee was several yards away, gathered around the Flobberworm tubs. 

'You two go ahead of me -- block their view as much as you can. Intercept any of them who get too near.' 

Immediately Harry and Ron emerged, Lucius Malfoy came hurrying over. They stepped up their pace to meet him -- 

'OH!' cried Hermione. Then, much more softly, '_Reducto!_' 

Harry and Ron swivelled to see her sprawled on the ground. For a brief instant, Harry thought the Trip Jinx he'd been preparing to cast on Mr Malfoy had gone off prematurely and in reverse. Then he spotted the Doxys' cage, lying in a shattered heap. Small, glimmering specks were zooming rapidly away from it. 

'_Accio!_' yelled Mr Malfoy. '_Accio Doxys!_' 

It did him no good; Hermione was muttering Banishing Charms non-stop under her breath. 

'_Dimitto Dimitto Dimitto Dimitto_ ...' 

'They're fairies, not Doxys,' said Harry, raising his voice so the rest of the Sub-committee could hear him. 'You won't fetch them back that way.' 

Lucius Malfoy gave Harry a venomous glare and his fingers tightened convulsively on his wand, but of course he couldn't hex anyone in front of the other Sub-committee members. 

'All right, Hermione?' said Hagrid, ambling over to help her up. 

'I'm fine,' said Hermione, 'but -- oh, Hagrid -- your fairies are gone!' 

'Tha's OK, they weren' really --' (Ron kicked Hagrid hard in the ankle) '-- ah, they weren' really very interestin', were they?' 

'You should get your gold back from the shop that sold you them, that cage was definitely faulty goods.' Hermione's eyes narrowed. 'Who did you buy those fairies from, anyway?' 

'Dunno,' shrugged Hagrid. 'None o' the usual places had 'em in stock, then these turned up by owl ...' 

Hermione gazed piercingly at Mr Malfoy, but all she said to Hagrid was, 'Why don't you ask Professor Flitwick to conjure some for the next lesson? He puts them up as ornaments every Christmas --' 

'Well, if that's settled, perhaps we can be getting on with this enquiry,' interrupted a tiny, grey-haired witch, so loudly that Harry gave a slight jump. 

For the first time, he was able to take a good look at the members of the Sub-committee for the Enforcement of Educational Decree Number Twenty-two. The doddery old wizard from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures who had attended Buckbeak's execution was there, more ancient and withered than ever. Macnair, thankfully, was not, but two other well hard-looking wizards were. 

One had very short wiry grey hair; the other was tall, black and bald with a gold hoop in one ear. Both appeared quite capable of acting as executioner should the need arise. From behind the pair of them a squat, mousey-haired witch with a face like a toad was shooting petrified glances at Hagrid -- maybe he really had picked her up by the back of her robes and carried her away from the cabin. 

The witch who had just spoken was stooped with age and had more wrinkles than a depilated Doxy, but there was nothing the least bit feeble about her voice. 

'The first complaint before the Sub-committee!' she bawled. 'That on or about the 23rd of October! You did bring Glumbumbles into the Hogwarts grounds! Resulting in the treacle-poisoning of a student! Vincent Crabbe!' 

'Hagrid never taught Glumbumbles!' said Hermione, speaking nearly as loudly as the grey-haired witch. 'Crabbe stole that treacle from the wizard who came to exterminate the Chizpurfles!' 

The entire Sub-committee wheeled round to stare at her. 

'We have signed statements from Professor Lupin and Professor Snape,' she said, nudging Hagrid in the thigh with her elbow. 

At the sound of Lupin's name, the toad-like witch gave a hiss, but was clearly too frightened of Hagrid to offer any further objection. Hagrid drew two rolls of parchment from inside his overcoat and handed them to the grey-haired witch. 

'Here y'are, Professor Marchbanks ...' 

The parchments were passed around the Sub-committee, to much clucking and muttering. 

'This boy ate actual Glumbumble treacle?' they heard the Dangerous Creatures wizard say, his reedy voice full of amazement. 'This was not a case of beehives becoming contaminated?' 

'Hmph, well, all this appears to be in order,' said Professor Marchbanks at last. 'Which brings us to the second complaint! Winged Horses!' 

'The Winged Horses were Abraxans, which are normally classified XXX,' said Hermione, who seemed to have appointed herself Defence Counsel. 'However, as these particular Abraxans had in fact been domesticated, a reduced classification for exceptional specimens was obtained from the French Ministry of Magic. Reciprocal reclassification was extended by the British Ministry when the horses in question were brought into this country for the Triwizard Tournament.' 

Hagrid gave Professor Marchbanks another sheaf of parchments. The members of the Sub-committee examined them closely, but evidently could find no fault. 

'The third complaint!' shouted Professor Marchbanks. 'The Bowtruckle attack on Gregory Goyle!' 

'Bowtruckles are classified XX, according to Newt Scamander,' said Hermione, holding out her copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. 

'These things are considered harmless?' said the black wizard, lifting an eyebrow, when the book was passed to him. 

'Yes, Mr Shacklebolt,' said Hermione, 'and have been for some time. I've got earlier editions from 1969, 1935 and 1927.' 

She pulled a set of battered old books from her bag and handed them round the Sub-committee. 

'Dear, dear, the Department will certainly have to be reconsidering that rating,' said the Dangerous Creatures wizard wheezily. 'But it appears Mr Hagrid acted within the letter of the law as presently written ...' 

'Then that should conclude the enquiry!' hollered Professor Marchbanks. 

As the Sub-committee turned to go, she tugged on Shacklebolt's sleeve. 

'I've a few things to discuss with Dumbledore,' she said, in what was plainly meant to be a whisper but came out as a normal speaking voice. 'If you could make sure Dolores gets back to the Ministry safely -- I think Hagrid scared her.' 

Professor Marchbanks set off towards the castle at a brisk totter. The other Sub-committee members headed for gates. Lucius Malfoy took up the rear, in such a fury that smoke seemed to be billowing up from his cloak. Only it wasn't smoke, Harry realised, but dust: Mr Malfoy was leaving a faint white trail across the lawn behind him. He pointed this out to Ron and Hermione. 

'Looks like he's got a hole in his Floo bag,' sniggered Ron. 

Hermione bent down and plucked a powdery blade of grass. 

'This doesn't look like Floo powder,' she said, frowning. 'Too grainy, and not glittery enough ...' 

'Oh, come off it,' said Ron. 'What else could it be?' 

A week later when the first of the Horklumps sprouted, they found out. 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_Fantastic Beasts_ and Why You Should Buy It -- I'm sure you all know the drill by now. You will also learn about Horklumps, and why you don't want them in your lawn. 

The first bit of serious _Order of the Phoenix_ AU turns up in this chapter. In canon, Educational Decree Number Twenty-two gave Fudge the power to appoint a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher if Dumbledore couldn't find one. In the _Legacy of Slytherin_ timeline, a teacher was located at the last minute, and Fudge had other things on his mind anyway (read "The Butterflies" to learn more). Educational Decree Number Twenty-two was instead used to limit Hagrid to teaching harmless (and easily domesticated) creatures. 

The toad-like witch was Umbridge, of course, still making trouble. Hagrid did pick her up by the back of her robes, and swung her all about when Dawlish was trying to Stun him, which is why she was screaming her head off. Due to the events of the previous summer (read "The Serpent of Lord Voldemort"), Ron and Hermione have met Kingsley Shacklebolt, but Harry hasn't. He's also never seen a Doxy before. 

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


	7. The Ramora

  
  


**— chapter seven —**

**THE RAMORA**

  
After that, Care of Magical Creatures lessons were mainly spent poisoning the Horklumps with Streeler venom. Though Horklumps looked like flesh-coloured, black-bristled mushrooms, they were really animals, pushing their root-like tentacles through the soil to hunt for earthworms. From the trail of eggs Mr Malfoy had scattered, they spread across the Hogwarts grounds like wildfire. 

Hagrid was in despair. 

'Once yeh've got Horklumps in yer lawn, yeh'll never get 'em out,' he told Harry, Ron and Hermione. 'If I get me hands on that Lucius Malfoy --' 

His massive fingers made vigorous wringing motions. 

Hagrid did manage to procure some Imps -- brown, flightless, marsh-dwelling Cornish Pixies. In short order, they escaped from their cage and took up residence in the bulrushes by the shore of the lake, where they made a terrible nuisance of themselves shoving and tripping anyone who strayed too close. When Dennis Creevey hit his head on a rock and had to be rescued from drowning yet again by the Giant Squid, Professor Lupin was called back to Hogwarts recapture them. Ron asked if he could stay on to help them deal with the Horklumps, but Lupin regretfully declined. 

'I couldn't do a thing you students aren't already doing, and a single extra pair of hands won't make much of a difference,' he said. 'Once you've got Horklumps in your lawn, I'm afraid you'll never completely get rid of them ...' 

After a month of hard labour, Harry began to fear that Lupin was right. At long last, however, the Horklumps' numbers were sufficiently reduced for Hagrid to keep them under control without assistance. At around that time, the Ramoras arrived. 

A rare species of magical fish native to the Indian Ocean, Ramoras were fiercely protected by the International Confederation of Wizards and the Indian Ministry of Magic. For weeks Hermione had been pelting their own Ministry with owls seeking the special permissions required to obtain specimens, and her efforts had finally paid off. 

Slender, darting and brilliantly silvery, the Ramoras were undoubtedly the most beautiful creatures they had studied that year. The flickering patterns they made as they swam about were strangely fascinating to watch. The merpeople who lived in the Hogwarts lake came up to see them. One or two of them could nearly always be found floating by the water's edge, gazing raptly into the Ramoras' tank and giving soft, screechy croons. Even Hagrid liked the Ramoras, which was saying something, as they truly did appear to be genuinely harmless. 

The Ministry had sent three Ramoras in a tank the size of a large television set. A fortnight after their delivery, the tank had to be enlarged -- the original trio had spawned a dozen tiny, glittering babies. Hagrid was quite pleased: it meant that the Ramora lessons could be prolonged indefinitely whilst the students observed them growing up. (The alternative was going back to Horklumps and Flobberworms.) 

He was less pleased ten days later, when twenty odd more babies turned up. The tank had to be enlarged once more, to roughly the size of a teacher's desk. Moreover, the first batch were now over half the length of their parents. It clearly would not be long before they started producing broods of their own. 

'I've never read anything about Ramoras breeding like this,' said Hermione anxiously. 'Perhaps we're overfeeding them ... I'll try and see if someone in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures can contact the Indian Ministry for information ...' 

That proved not to be necessary, however. Scarcely a week afterwards, the Indian Ministry contacted them. 

The class was clustered around the tank taking their twice-weekly measurements of the young Ramoras when they were distracted by a loud thump. A coil of rope had dropped out of the sky behind them. One end rose up to vanish into the air; climbing down it was a white-robed, brown-skinned and very angry-looking wizard. 

Immediately his feet touched the ground, the wizard spotted of the tank of Ramoras. He staggered back as though he had been punched in the stomach, a look of outraged horror on his face. When Hagrid lumbered over to see what was the matter, the wizard flew at him shouting wrathfully in a foreign language, and would have pummelled Hagrid with his fists had Hagrid not caught him by the collar and held him at arm's length. 

'Calm down, now, calm down ...' Hagrid said, but the wizard either didn't understand English or was too incensed to speak it. 

'What's he saying?' Ron asked Hermione. 

'I don't know, I don't speak -- Hindi, I suppose, or Urdu --' 

'Bengali, actually,' said Parvati Patil. 'Load of insults, mostly -- shameless bandit ... filthy son of a pig ... thieving rakshasa -- I think he thinks Hagrid stole the Ramoras.' 

'_What?_' shrieked Hermione, looking nearly as angry as the Indian wizard. 'He never! We got them from the Ministry of Magic! I went through the proper channels, I filled out all the forms, I have letters! You tell him, Parvati, you tell him I have letters!' 

Parvati backed away. She plainly wanted nothing to do with the situation, and Harry couldn't blame her. The Indian wizard was practically frothing at the mouth as he shouted at Hagrid with unabated fury. Hagrid's face was screwed up in concentration, in the apparent belief that if only he listened intently enough, he would somehow magically begin to comprehend the other wizard's language. 

'I reckon we'd better tell Dumbledore about this,' said Harry. 'If there's a problem with the Ramoras, he'll sort it out. Hermione, you go fetch those letters. We'll meet you by the gargoyle.' 

Hermione tore off up the lawn to the castle. With Harry and Ron flanking her as bodyguards, Parvati was persuaded to approach the Indian wizard and request in Bengali that he accompany them to Dumbledore's office. The wizard was sufficiently astonished at being addressed in his own language (or possibly merely starting to run short of breath) that he actually did as they asked him. 

Hermione was waiting in front of the gargoyle with an armful of parchment. Hagrid gave the password and they all trooped up the stone staircase, through the polished oak door and into the circular room. When the Indian wizard caught sight Dumbledore, he let out a fresh torrent of speech. 

'Er -- he says --' began Parvati. 

Dumbledore said something to her in the same language and she subsided. 

'Hagrid didn't steal the Ramoras, we got them from the Ministry!' Hermione butted in. 'Look!' 

She dumped her pile of parchments on Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore sorted through them, making the occasional remark in Bengali. Some of the rolls of parchment he passed on to the Indian wizard, who tapped them with his wand, turning the letters into odd squiggles. After reading the last, he said a few words to Dumbledore, who waved his wand, causing the parchment to split into two identical copies. The wizard thrust one of them into his robes with an air of grim satisfaction; Dumbledore magicked the other back to English. Craning his neck, Harry was able to catch a glimpse of it before Dumbledore rolled it up again: 

_ Dear Miss Granger, _

Here are your perishing Ramoras, now will you please stop burying my office in owls ... 

'What are they _saying_?' Hermione hissed at Parvati. 

Dumbledore raised a hand to forestall her reply. 

'Mr Serendip works for the Indian Ministry of Magic in their Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,' he said. 'Under laws put into place by the International Confederation of Wizards, it is illegal to remove a Ramora from Indian territorial waters for any reason, although no one in our own Ministry appears to have been aware of this fact. Last month, a serious poaching incident occurred off the coast of Brahmapur. A number of the local merpeople were magically attacked by a group of wizards who were trawling for Ramoras with a net. As the merpeople were unable to identify their assailants, there seemed little chance of the culprits being brought to justice -- until Mer-chieftainess Murcus happened to mention to an Indian counterpart that Hogwarts had recently acquired Ramoras of its own, thus tipping off Mr Serendip to a Scottish connection. I believe, however, that I have convinced him that the school and its staff were acting in good faith. He will pursue his case against the responsible parties in the Ministry of Magic -- but the Ramoras must be returned at once.' 

Dumbledore went with them to Hagrid's cabin to help arrange the transport of the Ramoras. When they reached the tank, Mr Serendip walked around it slowly, studying the Ramoras from every angle. Coming full circle, he muttered something that sounded like grudging approval. 

He and Dumbledore held a brief conversation, after which Dumbledore said, 'Mr Serendip says that Hagrid may keep a pair of Ramoras for teaching purposes whilst he is in Britain -- he'll take them with him when he returns to India.' 

'Be'er make it a pair o' males,' said Hagrid, 'or the rate they breed, there'll be thirty more by the time he comes back fer 'em.' 

Mr Serendip must have understood at least a little English, for he looked thoroughly shocked at Hagrid's remark. He peered into the tank and began to speak excitedly. 

'You mean that some of these Ramoras were bred at Hogwarts?' said Dumbledore. 

'All of 'em excep' the biggest three,' said Hagrid. 

Mr Serendip's voice grew even more excited as he directed another volley of words at Dumbledore. 

'Only nobody has ever before succeeded in breeding Ramoras in captivity,' said Dumbledore. 'It's one of the major impediments to the Indian Ministry's conservation efforts. Er --' he cast wary glance at the Care of Magical Creatures students, who were gazing on in deep interest, '-- dare I ask how you managed it?' 

'I wasn' _tryin'_ ter breed 'em,' said Hagrid. 'I didn' do anythin' but feed 'em. Mind, Hermione reckoned I mighta bin givin' 'em a bit much --' 

'A bit much what?' said Dumbledore. 

'Ah, Horklumps, mostly,' said Hagrid, sounding slightly embarrassed. 'We had loads, an' they seemed ter like 'em, an' Gawd knows there's no other use fer Horklumps. An' Professor Snape's Goldfish Tonic -- they was lookin' a bit tarnished when we got 'em. Had ter swear never ter teach Chizpurfles again before he'd brew it, but it shined up them Ramoras a treat.' 

Mr Serendip insisted on being taken to see Professor Snape straight away. Hermione dragged Harry and Ron along too, very much against their wills. 

'This may well be the magizoological discovery of the century!' she told them sternly. 'And Goldfish Tonics could come up in our OWLs.' 

'The Three Heavenly Lotus Formula?' said Snape, after Dumbledore had explained the situation. 'A commonly used potion in Japan -- many wizards there keep magical goldfish as pets. I obtained the instructions through Slug and Jigger from their supplier in the Far East.' 

He produced a grubby sheet of rice parchment from the inner recesses of his desk. Mr Serendip surveyed it narrowly. 

'You follow exact recipe?' he said. 

'Naturally I followed the exact recipe,' said Snape coldly. 'With certain standard substitutions of locally available ingredients,' he added. 

'If you could write down the instructions for the potion just as you brewed it, I'm sure Mr Serendip would be most grateful,' said Dumbledore. 

So Snape took out a fresh roll of parchment and he wrote ... and he wrote ... and he wrote. For nearly ten minutes, not a sound was heard but the scratching of Snape's quill. The piece of parchment he at last tore off and gave to Dumbledore was easily seven times as long as the original. 

'Gillyweed blossoms for Heavenly Lotus ... agrimony for crane's herb ... milkwort for _yuan zhi_ ... yes, I see,' murmured Dumbledore, running a finger down the parchment. 'But surely an infusion of frogspawn isn't magical enough to take the place of Kappa brine?' 

'It is if it's made with Hogwarts lake water,' said Snape shortly. 

'And _mock_ pickle of Chung K'uei?' 

'A decoction of dill weed, dragon's blood, Ogden's Old Firewhiskey and Muggle curry powder,' said Snape. 'The instructions for brewing it are in the fourth footnote.' 

'Severus, is there a single ingredient in this entire potion that you did not use a substitute for?' said Dumbledore, a note of amused exasperation in his voice. 

'When I make substitutions,' said Snape haughtily, 'they work.' 

But exactly how well they worked Harry was not to learn until one morning near the end of term. 

'Oooh, look ...' said Hermione, opening her copy of the _Daily Prophet_. 'Hagrid's been shortlisted for the Marjoribanks Prize!' 

'The what?' said Harry. 

'The Marjoribanks Prize,' said Hermione. 'Awarded each decade for outstanding contributions to the field of Herbology.' 

'Herbology?' said Ron. '_Hagrid?_' 

'Yes,' said Hermione, 'for finding an actual use for Horklumps.' 

'I thought you said Horklumps were animals, not plants,' said Harry. 'They should be giving Hagrid a Magical Creatures prize ...' 

'Well, there's still some debate about that,' said Hermione. 'And it's Snape who's up for the Magical Creatures prize. If his Ramora Tonic lives up to its promise, he has a fair chance of becoming the first Western wizard to receive the Order of Quang Po. Hogwarts has done quite well out of this Ramora poaching,' she went on as she buttered her toast. 'Far better than the Ministry of Magic. Questions have been raised in the International Confederation of Wizards, Britain could end up paying a stiff fine. There's a bright side to that as well, though -- Dumbledore says that Educational Decree Number Twenty-two will be getting revoked any day now. What with everything that's happened this year, the Ministry decided that harmless creatures are just too dangerous!' 

**— the end —**

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


End file.
